Roger Davies sat at the Ravenclaw table, his face flush, as he listened to Fleur Delacour talking rapidly in fluent French to one of the other girls from Beauxbatons. She was bright as a star, he thought, and started working out in his head how to say the words in French.

Bella ...étoile?

Surely there were more words to the sentence structure to be proper. She'd understand if he said it that way, but he wanted it to be right.

Fleur caught him looking and smiled at him. "I am sorry," she said, "Please forgive moi, I 'ave been most inconsiderate, Roger." She flushed.

"It's alright," he answered. "I was just enjoying listening, perhaps I'll learn a bit more by listening." He smiled and the girl beside Fleur shook her head, not understanding the English.

Fleur turned to her and said, "Roger parle très peu français."

"Très dommage," the girl replied.

Fleur turned back to Roger. "So tell me, are you looking forward for tonight?" she asked, smiling.

"Yes, very much," Roger replied. Honestly, he was dreading the ball. Who would be looking forward to what was sure to be a grand display of how little he knew about dancing? And in front of such a pretty girl? Blokes are lined up 'round the country to embarrass themselves in front of such a girl as Fleur Delacor.

She smiled, "I am looking forward to tonight as well."

Roger smiled, too.

"Tell me more about yourself, Roger Davies," she requested.

He flushed - what to tell her? What would a girl like Fleur want in a man? She was so strong and smart, hard to impress. "I'm Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team," he said. "Do you like Quidditch much?"

"Eet eez very popular," Fleur answered without answering. "Hogwarts students speak often of the quidditch."

"Doesn't Beauxbaton have quidditch program?"

"We do but eet eez not our focus," she said.

"Well it's quite a spectacle around here - we're quite competitive here at Hogwarts." He cleared his throat, flushing, "Being a Captain is sort of a big deal, we work really hard at it to become one, and I finally did it. Of course it's been postponed due to the Tourney, but next year --"

Fleur's face had turned with a snap to look at the doors of the Great Hall. Roger looked over at the doors, too.

A man with broad shoulders and a grin on his face had come in, long hair falling across his shoulders, a large dragon claw earring hanging from his lobe. The man strode in, looking so incredibly cool and in control that Roger wondered whether the bloke had ever had a poor day in his entire life. He looked vaguely familiar, and he realized why when he turned and the Weasley twins were there with him, chattering excitedly.

Clearly, this was one of the oldest brothers.

Fleur watched the three Weasleys head to Gryffindor table, where the littlest sister cried out and ran to her brother.

"Those are the Weasleys," he said, "Fred and George are the twins, they're pranksters. And their sister Ginny and one of the older brothers, not sure which - either Charlie or Bill."

"Eet eez Bill," Fleur said.

"Oh. Do you know Bill?" Roger asked.

"We 'ave met," Fleur replied. She turned back 'round to face forward, tucking some loose hairs back into her braid. "Before ze first task, I met him. He said he was betting on me for ze win. I suppose he 'az regretted this choice he made after I came in last."

Roger shook his head, "Biased judges. You oughtn't to have come last. I mean, perhaps not first. Potter was very impressive. But --" he paused, stopping before he could critique Diggory poorly. Cedric had done what he could. He'd been impressive, too. All the champions had. Some had come out luckier than others, that's all it really came down to.

Fleur was still watching Bill as he sank onto the bench at Gryffindor, his brothers and sister crowding around him as he reached for a biscuit from a platter of them on the table. Bill's eyes moved upward and met Fleur's and Fleur's cheeks reddened as she spun 'round to Roger again.

Roger raised his eyebrows.

Fleur sniffed and took a deep breath.

"So what part of France are you from?" he asked.

Fleur looked grateful for his interest, and launched into a description of her family's home by the sea.

Bill smirked when Fleur's cheeks flared red and she spun away.

Ginny was in the middle of excitedly talking about a game of pick up quidditch she had played the day before with Dean Thomas, Ron, Harry, and the twins. It had been snowing and her fingers had nearly frozen to the broomstick, she claimed.

"Yeah until Harry lent you his glove, ey, Gin?" winked George, grinning.

Ginny threw a chip at him. "Shut it!"

"Where is Ron and Harry?" Bill asked, looking around the hall.

"Ronniekins is probably in hiding," Fred said.

"Hiding?" Bill asked. "What from?"

"Mortification," the twins said in unison.

"He tried at asking Fleur to the Ball," Ginny explained, "It's been hard getting him out of his dorm since."

"Fleur?" Bill laughed, "Bit old for him, isn't she?"

"She charmed him," Fred said.

"With her veela magic," George added.

Fred and George both waved their fingers at Bill.

Bill snorted. "Poor Ron."

"And mum sent him the most hideous robes," Ginny said.

Fred and George hooted with amusement, "I forgot about them!" Fred wheezed.

"Looks like Aunt Muriel."

"Oh gods. They weren't brown, were they?" Bill asked, wincing.

"And frilly!" both twins said at once, making explosive motions with their fingers at their breast bones to indicate the lace that had adorned their brother's chest.

"Those were Charlie's once."

George honked he laughed so hard and Ginny covered her mouth with her palms. "Ought to have had his dragons set fire to those, oughtn't he?" Fred wheezed, clapping George on the back.

"Wanted to," Bill answered. "No doubt he would've done if he'd had the dragons then."

"I can't picture Charlie at a ball!" Ginny said.

Bill shook his head, "None of us could've done, either. Mum wanted him to go and sent the robes, but he never used them."

Fred said, "Only way you'd ever get Charlie at a ball is if there was a dragon who'd learned to do the fox trot."

"Knowing Charlie, he could probably get one to do it, too," George said with a chuckle.

Fred hummed a tune and twisted in his seat as though dancing with a large winged creature.

"Oh you'd be surprised. He did go. He just didn't wear the robes," Bill answered, smirking.

"Stag?" George asked.

Bill shook his head, then caught sight of his watch, "I have to get going you lot, I just wanted to stop in and visit."

"For no reason?" George pressed.

"Mum asked me to check in with Percy." Bill nodded toward the staff table, where Percy Weasley sat with Mr. Crouch, who was speaking to Albus Dumbledore. "Wanted to see if he was coming 'round the Burrow for holiday."

"Is he?" Fred asked.

Bill frowned.

"What a prat," chuffed George.

Bill said, "Nearly breaking Mum's heart, he is. At least Charlie has said he'd come 'round. Hopefully I'll be able to distract her with that bit of news, at least."

"Good luck on that," Fred said.

"Want us to explode a toilet or something?" George asked.

"That'll really get her distracted!" said Fred excitedly.

Ginny rolled her eyes, "If you want to get into trouble you could just tell her about your skivvy snortblocks or whatever you call them! No need to explode any of the loos."

"Skiving Snack Boxes," George corrected her.

"And shut up about them," Fred added, glancing warily at Bill and then Percy. "No telling who of the adults are on our side and who's liable to be a snitch."

Bill looked offended, "Me, a snitch? Bollocks!"

"Still." Fred said, though George looked eager to tell Bill something that Fred's raised eyebrow kept him from doing.

Bill laughed and shook his head, "Alright, keep your secrets. I'm shoving off. See you for the second task."

He got up and headed for the doors, pausing as he passed the Ravenclaw table to glance down the length of it to where Fleur Delacor was talking with a boy, talking with hand motions that set her beautifully pale hair rippling over her shoulder. Bill winked and waved and was rewarded with yet another soft pink glow to her cheeks.

Declan Alectric sat on one of the player benches on the side line of the quidditch pitch, bundled up in two jumpers and a coat, and looking rather miserable. His breath rose up from under the scarf he'd wrapped around his neck and mouth thrice to block the cold out from his teeth, which were sensitive to the air, his blue hair falling messily over his forehead.

"You didn't have to come along," Oliver said for about the fiftieth time.

Declan nuzzled like a turtle leaning into his shell. "What was I supposed to do? Stay at the inn with your filthy dog?"

Oliver shrugged.

Declan shook his sleeve back from his wrist and looked at the worn brown leather watch he always wore. "Cedric's late."

Oliver shrugged, "Probably had a class run on or something. You know half the professors here enjoy hearing themselves talk. You remember Trelawney? That crazy bird's still here and all!"

Declan snorted and tucked his glove back over his watch, shoving his hands into his pockets. He watched Oliver sorting through some of the equipment he'd brought along - broom weights and a practice bludger and some other items - and Declan looked up at the castle.

"You remember that one time, that day in the Bell Tower?"

Oliver turned 'round, the practice bludger in his grasp and stared at Declan. "Yes," Oliver answered.

Declan smiled.

Sometimes, Oliver didn't remember it.

Sometimes it was only an artifact.

"What about it?" Oliver asked.

Declan nodded toward the tower, the way the cold noon sun reflected off the actual bell inside of it. "It just went through my mind is all. It was cold as this that day, too."

Oliver smiled, "Yeah, I remember."

Declan stared up at it still, even as Oliver sat down, too, facing Declan, legs straddling the bench the same as he would straddle a broomstick. "Dec?"

Declan tore his eyes from the tower like he was rousing from a heavy memory, swiveling to meet Oliver's eyes.

"I'm tired," Oliver murmured. "More than I was then." He nodded toward the tower.

Declan's brows cinched with concern.

"I think I've been tired my whole life," Oliver admitted.

Declan frowned. "I know what you mean."

Oliver laughed sadly. There was a long pause between them. "You ever wish you could just... go back? Change everything?"

Declan stared at Oliver.

"I mean... probably would mess up as much as you fix," Oliver said. Then added, "I would at any rate. I don't have the mind for that type stuff like you do."

Declan looked surprised. "What?"

"I mean like physics and engineering and all that muggle stuff you seem to just understand." Oliver shrugged. "You're incredibly smart. I'm more... you know. Athletic. But you have brains. You could have a way of understanding things - cause and effect things - way better than I do."

Declan flushed.

Oliver looked up and a smile spread over his face.

He went from Oliver, Declan's friend to Oliver Kent the International Quidditch Star.

Cedric Diggory was waving from across the pitch as he approached, followed by Herbert Fleet.

But Declan didn't take his eyes off Oliver.